Friday, 21 March 2008

Once I was a bank of clay along a wetted marsh. I was content and silent, enjoying the natural sensations. One day an artist came, and with a strong, forceful knife, he cut me, again and again, until I was a lump of my former self. He took me to a strange place and with torturous strength he kneaded me. He threw me on a potter's wheel. He squeezed me. He punched me. He poked me. It seemed to never end. He bent me and thinned me out. I was no longer anything like I once was. Then the wheel stopped! He held me up to a mirror. I was beautiful! The pain had made me beautiful and useful. Now I could rest, I thought. I had become what I was meant to be. But wait! Where am I going now? To a firing kiln? Fire? More pain? Why, artist, why? "My little pot, you are the shape you'll always be, the design I planned for you, but unless I fire and glaze you, you will not endure. I hope you understand, it will not be for long, and then you will be the model for my other student's pots." And so I endured the fire, with anticipation of what I might someday inspire.

1 comments:

Hi Shiela,

I came from Bro.Mel's blog. I too have Lupus and I can understand your pain. I hope you feel much better soon and please bear in mind that God will never give us something we can't handle. Stay strong and stand firm in your faith. God bless you and my prayers are with you and your family.

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